My deepest Shame
by Maxjax
Summary: This is a story about a nordic dragonborn who hunts down some bandits from his past and deeply regrets his actions.


My name is Thor Heyardhal, however throughout the province I am known simply as Dovahkiin. Dragonborn. I have accomplished many things in my life; I walked into the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary and slaughtered an entire cell of the greatest assassin's in the world, led the imperial army into Windhelm and crushed the nationalistic stormcloaks and took Ulfric Stormcloak's head and of course, chased the world eater Alduin into the afterlife and struck him down. After all of this, I have finally settled down and lead a quiet life as the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, content to passing on my knowledge of the magical arts to the mages of Skyrim and furthering my studies into unlocking the deeper secrets of the dragon tongue and shouting. Although there are numerous tomes chronicling my many successes there is no record of my deepest shame- my most devastating defeat.

The earliest records of my adventures begin with the dragon attack during the execution. Imperial soldiers ambushed Ulfric Stormcloak and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time but my own story began far before. The only family in the world I had was my baby brother, Rickard. Our parents were farmers who were murdered by bandits. The bandits destroyed our farm and burnt our crops. My brother and I barely escaped with our lives. There could be no worse situation; a 16 year old nord and his 12 year old brother running for their lives not daring to look back in a country in the middle of the most bloody and brutal civil wars in history. My destination was the closest city, Helgen but my fear affected my bearings and I ended up taking us further south than I intended.

For the rest of that day we ran as fast as we could, desperately seeking help but there was none. Rickard wouldn't stop crying. I myself wanted to do nothing more than to collapse and cry for my parents but I was afforded no such luxury. Skyrim is a harsh place and the wilds are crawling with wolves and other predators. We could not stop. In the end it was all in vain. We got as far as the mighty river before they found us. All the warning I got was an arrow piercing my baby brother's skull. I remember it so clearly. He just had a drink of water and washed the dirt from his face. Rickard looked up to me with tears in his eyes and tried to speak but he couldn't get the words out. I took him by the shoulders and wiped the tears from my baby brother's eyes and assured him that we would be fine and that those men, whoever they were, would be brought to justice. He looked as if he was about to smile at me but the arrow stuck him sending bone and blood flying in all directions. His body now lifeless in my arms. The bandits descended upon us. Distraught all I could do was let loose a pitiful jet of flame before I felt my skull crack from the mighty blow of the war hammer. I managed to see their leader's face though. An altmer sitting atop a chestnut draft horse, a longsword across his back and a cruel smile on his face.

I awoke hours later in the back of a horse-drawn cart with my hands bound and sitting next to a horse theif, a stormcloak, and Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Between my ear splitting headache and my odd companions I was extremely confused. Then it hit me all at once. Father and mother screaming as the bandits ran them through, an arrow flying through my baby brother's skull, the smile of an altmer and blinding pain. My confusion must have shown on my face because the stormcloak opposite me explained the situation. They were travelling with Ulfric and they were ambushed by the imperials. Apparently the imperials found my body behind a nearby bush and assumed I was one of them. I suppose my assailants left me to the wolves instead of finishing the jobs themselves. Ralof continued his moaning. The usual stormcloak drivel. Their argument was that the imperials were destroying Skyrim culture by outlawing Talos worship but any sane person knew that the ban was only in theory until Ulfric started his little war and it began being enforced. For Skyrim they said, but they really meant for the Nords. Nationalistic or racist, it was the same to them.

The death of my family finally sank in during the long ride. Two days ago I was living on a farm helping my father in the fields while my brother played and mom cooked. Now I am alone. No home and no family. The crushing weight of the grief and loneliness hit me all at once, tears streaming from my eyes but I was man enough to keep my sobs to myself. Ralof noticed and attempted to cheer me up. "Do not worry brother, the stormcloaks will not fall this day!" was what he said. I hated that man. He told me our destination was Helgen where we would all be executed. Yesterday I would find safety in Helgen but today I would find only death. For the entirety of the ride I was silent. I simply didn't care. Death was welcome and I would get to be with my family, maybe ask my father why those men attacked us.

The events of Helgen have been covered again and again in many a leather bound book. Some of which are even at my disposal here in the College library. Suffice it to say that my life was saved by the very being that I would be tasked with destroying. Some call it destiny but I prefer to call it a happy coincidence. I met Hadvar that day, my closest friend and ally. We escaped the smoldering city and he set course for Riverwood where I would meet him in a week's time but right now I had some things to settle. Within two days I managed to find the ruins of our farm, the corpses of my parents still lying face down in the dirt. I gathered some firewood from nearby and built a makeshift pyre. My father was a heavy, powerful nord. His head was almost completely cleaved off. My mother was an imperial and a very beautiful one. I felt a sharp pain in my chest when I saw them both laying on the pyre, their bodies so mangled and bloody. This was one of the two times I wish I knew the chant. After saying my own little prayer I lit the flame and watched it burn. When this was finished I tried my best to find the spot where Rickard was killed but to no avail. My brother wasn't even allowed a proper funeral. All I could manage was a small pile of rocks near the river- my own little memorial.

Afterwards I set of for Riverwood to meet up with Hadvar. There was nothing else I could do. From there my recorded adventures began, from the time I learned my first shout to killing my first dragon to training with the greybeards and unlocking my true powers to bring down the world eater. All of this and much more is known in its entirety. What isn't known was that I was hunting more than dragons. Everywhere I went I searched for the group of bandits led by that Altmer bastard. Bandits were no trouble to find, in the beginning I found them worrisome but they were nothing compared to the dragons. After a short while they weren't even a hindrance, I swung my blade and they died but no matter how much bandits I encountered I never found him. The Altmer and the group who killed my family. When Alduin was defeated I fully devoted myself to finding him. Thankfully after Ulfric's defeat I had some pull with the Imperial Army. Altmers were rare in Skyrim. The Dominion was still very much hated and every Altmer was looked upon with scorn and hate by the general population. I used some of my influence with the general and friendship with Hadvar to get an imperial squadron to investigate. I didn't have much hope. My travels had led me all across Skyrim and I had discovered nothing. Then again I do recall that everywhere I went people were always trying to either get me to help them or they were trying to kill me. Maybe the imperials would have some luck after all. However close I was to the army I didn't trust them to take my request seriously. Skyrim was a massive place and delays would be difficult to dispute. I sent Lydia with them; she was my housecarl who attended Jarl Balgruuf's court in my place

The months dragged on and I had resigned myself to teaching in the College for a time. It was a nice, quiet life, something I thought I was well suited for. The news came in the evening during my weekly meeting with my staff. Lydia burst into the room.

"My lord, we've found them."

That was all I needed to hear.

The soldiers found them in near the ruins of Helgen in the same spot where my father's farm was. It turns out that they weren't bandits, but a group of thugs. My father had a debt to an orcish lord and he couldn't pay in time so the orc sent these men to make an example of him and they were rewarded with the land. Apparently it was now a thriving village. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. His name was Aleris. A former justiciar who abandoned the dominion. The group who followed him were defects from the imperial army. All men without a home, who took mine to gain it for themselves. Three years it has been since that day and I never went back, the memories too painful for me to revisit. My nights were still haunted by the screams of my parents and the bloody corpse of my poor brother has robbed me of many a night of pleasant rest. I heard the soldiers' reports and congratulated them on a job well done assuring them that General Tullius would hear about their success. They left my quarters beaming; only Lydia remained.

"I dare say you won't want assistance in carrying out your holy vengeance on these creatures?"

A small grin crossed my face, I knew that Lydia would rather be by my side slaying dragons or trekking through dark caves than filling in for me at some Jarl's court.

"Hahaha…tell Balgruuf I said 'Hello' Lyd."

"Very well my lord."

She turned briskly and stomped down the stairs, "Maybe when someone stabs him in the ass he'll wish I had his back."

She left me alone in the Archmage's quarters. Here in the darkness with my back against a wall of books there was only one thing on my mind. They must die and they must die now. I immediately left. The college was used to such unexplained disappearances and it would cause no trouble. The soldiers had told me that the orc who ordered the death of my father was murdered in an uprising led by his own daughter. There was a sort of grim satisfaction to be gained in that. All that was left was Aleris and his friends. By midday I would be at my farm. Or rather, at their village.

I moved unnaturally fast that night. Whirlwind Sprint carried me across the land faster than any horse could.

The sun was high over the mountains when I arrived. A dark shadow overlooking the sleepy settlement below me. It was nothing impressive, an inn and a few houses with crops growing, slightly smaller than Rorikstead. From my vantage point I could see several children playing in the street, elderly persons sitting in a small group in front the inn enjoying a pint and people just living there lives. However, this did not concern them. I developed a habit during the war. Whenever we rushed a stormcloak stronghold, I put on one of the dragon priests' masks that I acquired in my travels. Their stony visage terrified my enemies and it made my task easier; hiding behind anonymity. Each mask was similar in shape and wore the same expression. On that day I wore the black mask of Nahkriin and descended into the village.

As I entered the gates an intense silence fell upon the entire village. All eyes were on the tall stranger in the odd mask. I passed by the staring children and the women who averted their gaze and stopped by the men outside the inn.

"Aleris," was all I said.

"W-w-w-who?" was the reply from a white haired imperial.

"Altmer. Where is he?"

"Oh…h-h-h-his house is right down t-t-there."

He pointed at a fine house at the end of the street, a little altmer girl was playing in the yard. I continued on slowly, relishing every step that took me closer to my revenge. Before I knew it I was at his doorstep and to my surprise I realized something that made me snap. The bastard built upon my father's ruins.

I kicked open the door in my rage and found him having lunch with his wife.

"WHO THE HELL ARE Y-"

"FUS RO DAH!"

My shout sent him flying from his chair and he violently hit the wall behind him. His wife ran past me shouting for help. I did not care.

"YOU SON OF A WHORE! YOU KILL HIM, HIS WIFE AND HIS CHILD AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO LIVE IN HIS HOUSE?"

"W-w-w-wha? I never killed nobody I swear!"

"LIAR! YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! YOU KNOW WHO I AM!"

"I swear it sir, I swear I do not!"

I lifted him by the neck with one arm and slammed him into the wall. Ripping the mask off my face I screamed, "Look at me…LOOK AT ME..picture me by a river holding a small boy in my arms as an arrow pierces his skull. Now tell me you don't know who I am."

Realization struck him and his eyes grew wide. "You're Heyerdhal's boy..you lived?"

I threw him across the room.

"Yes, I'm alive and I'm going to enjoy this."

"NO!"

He ran out of the house into the streets where I pursued him, only to be accosted by the townspeople. They deemed it fit to arm themselves and defend their friend. The white haired imperial who I spoke to at the inn held a pitchfork to my throat and issued a threat.

"Now, I don't know who you are son but I know that shouting you do can't kill us all. So hows about you just get out of here and never come back."

In the crowd behind him I noticed a large orc wielding a massive iron warhammer and there was a nord archer perched atop the roof of the inn. Arrow cocked and aimed directly at me. Cold fury pulsed in my veins.

The reason I travel alone is that some of the weapons in my arsenal, some spells and shouts are too powerful to be used without consequence. There is one shout that I can always depend on. It is powerful. It does not discriminate. It kills everything whether it be ally or accomplice. I saw Aleris cowering on the ground behind the crowd, his daughter clutched tightly to his chest just as my mother used to hold Rickard and I used this shout. I raised my heads to the heavens and let the words fly.

"STRUN. BAH. QO"

Calling the mighty storm.

The skies grew black and a mighty torrent of rain came down. The townspeople were frightened and the old man made to put his pitchfork through my throat but I grabbed the end and raised him high into the air.

"IISS SLEN NUS."

I breathed a mighty blizzard freezing him frozen form fell to the ground and shattered. The rest of the crowd divided. The orc with the hammer made to strike me. I conjured a sword in each hand and parried his blow.

"YOL TOOR SHUL."

A massive spout of dragonfire swept forth from my jaw engulfing him in flames. He fell away screaming, writhing in agony as his flesh was burnt to a crisp.

An arrow zinged past my head and I looked at the archer just in time to see him utterly destroyed by a bolt of lightning. He was not the only one. The lightning fell without care or concern. Men, women and child were dying all around me and I didn't care. So deep was my rage. Aleris took off running; his wife lay dead on the ground after receiving a lightning bolt. I could see his daughter in his arms.

"WULD NAH KEST"

With a single Whirlwind Sprint I was in front of him. He barreled into me headfirst and went crashing into the ground. Mad with rage I picked up his daughter. A sinister smile across my face, "How old is she? Twelve? My brother was twelve you know. When you killed him. Ever seen a child die Aleris? Up close? I have. It's not nice." With that I once again conjured the long sword in my right hand and without any hesitation I killed his daughter right in front of him.

"NO!" He looked up at me helplessly tears and rain streaming down his face, lightning crashing all around us. Most of the town was already on fire and there was no longer any people running about.

"Why?"

"Don't worry Aleris. You'll see her soon."

I threw his daughters limp body aside and focused all of my attention on the elf in front of me. I brought my conjured blade up to my shoulder and in one swift motion, took his head clean off.

Finally it was over. It was all over. Or I wish it was.

His death brought me out of my rage and I noticed my surroundings. People lay dead everywhere and the storm was still going.

"LOK VAH KOOR."

The skies immediately cleared. But it was too late. The entire village was dead. Only then I realized what I did. I got my revenge, but at what cost? The lives of so many innocents? So many children and the elderly who were up to this morning living life as normal. Then it hit me hard. I killed a child. I killed a baby girl. Tears rolled down my face. How could I do such a thing?

Somehow I found myself at Jarl Balgruuf's palace. I was welcomed with hospitality as usual. My morose silence was noted by the Jarl but he did not pry. The dreams of my parents are gone now, replaced by that girl and the townspeople. To this day everywhere I go I am welcomed as a champion. They call me Dragonborn, dovahkiin, archmage, hero. But in my mind only one word rings clear. Murderer.


End file.
